


Disagreements

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Morgan stark has an attitude, Peter probably has less speaking lines than Morgan oops, tony is Trying His Best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22298473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After an injury (Tony didn’t overreact), Peter stays with the Starks while he recovers. Morgan may or may not be a little jealous of all the attention he’s getting.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 144
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	Disagreements

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iron_spider_suit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider_suit/gifts).



> Hi guys! This is the fic I wrote for the irondad gift exchange 2019. Hope you like it!

Tony Stark was nothing if not composed. 

This was the man who had locked eyes with death on multiple occasions, who had snapped his fingers and saved the world.

But when he had received the call from May Parker that morning, it had been all he could do to keep the ever-increasing panic out of his voice. 

He had known something was up since Thursday, when Peter was supposed to come over to work on his new suit. He had texted later, some excuse about ‘not feeling great, I was up too late Mr. Stark, I’m fine, I swear.’

Bullshit.

Tony knew the kid wouldn’t bail out unless it was really bad, but he figured it would be over in a week or so. Even spider-kids got sick. 

But now May was calling, and he was on the other end of the line, hands shaking, because something was wrong.

“It’s bad,” she had said, voice shaking. “I thought he would be okay, but he kept getting worse and I-“

“What happened?”

“He’s sick. Really sick. And he was getting better, but yesterday it got so much worse and I don’t know what to do-“ 

“May, calm down. Tell me what happened.” 

The fact that he was telling May to calm down when he was on the verge of a panic attack could almost be considered ironic.

“Well, he got stabbed on Wednesday-“

“He got what?!”

“He said there was some guy who had a knife that ‘smelled weird’, and he got stabbed, so we both figured there must have been some sort of poison on it or...something.”

Tony took a deep breath (something becoming increasingly more difficult with every second) and ran a hand through his hair. 

It was no secret to anyone involved in the life of Peter Parker that injuries on the job were a given. Even Ned and MJ had found themselves as the caretakers of a delirious Spider-Man on occasion, when their apartments were closer than his own. And sure, Peter had been hurt bad before, stabbed, too, but...poisoned? Poisoned and stabbed?

It was going to be a long couple of weeks. 

By the end of the phone call, Tony had decided (read: practically forced May into agreeing) to come over and check him out. 

Tony was at the Parkers’ apartment in under twenty minutes. 

May opened the door for him, and Tony could tell the past few days had been less than ideal in terms of healthy sleep schedules and general self-care. 

She had bags under her eyes, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“Thanks for coming,” she said, even though they both knew Tony would have been there even if she hadn’t agreed.

“No problem.” His eyes peered past her shoulder and down the hall. “He in his room?”

He was down the hall before May could respond. 

The room was dark. That should’ve been his first sign. 

Peter’s room was never dark. 

Even during the nighttime, there was always something to light up the room. Peter’s erratic sleep/superhero schedule meant that he took any time he could to finish his homework, so typically he fell asleep with his light on, head resting on his arms with textbooks as a pillow. (Which was a whole different problem that Tony would need to address later.)

To see the room dark...it was sobering. Any lingering hope that Tony had that it’s not that bad, he’s fine, we’re overreacting - it was gone. 

Tony let his eyes drift over to the bed, and felt his heart stop in his chest. 

Peter was curled into a tiny ball, huddled under what looked like enough blankets to act as supplies for an entire homeless shelter.

And he was shivering. 

Tony felt his heart drop into his stomach.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly as he entered the room. 

Peter barely reacted. His eyes were squeezed shut, blocking out any unneeded sensory input. 

He turned slightly. 

“M’sr Stark?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Lucky you.”

Peter’s eyes relaxed ever so slightly. 

“How you feeling, kid?”

Peter mumbled something incoherent and rolled over.

“He’s been like that since Thursday evening.” May’s voice came softly from behind him. 

Tony knelt by the bed. 

“Could I move these blankets for you?” 

Peter started to shiver even more violently as Tony removed the blankets. His side was wrapped in gauze, dried blood staining it brown. 

“That doesn’t look good,” He muttered. “How you been feeling, kiddo?” He almost didn’t want the answer.

Peter let out a soft groan in response and curled in on himself more, moving to open his eyes and look at Tony. 

Tony ran a hand through the kid’s hair and sighed. 

Standing up, he moved back to the hall and closed the door softly behind him. 

May watched him quietly, eyes searching his face for any type of reassurance. She found none. 

Tony took another deep breath and met her eyes. 

“I’m not a doctor.” 

May nodded.

“The only experience I have with any sort of injuries is from...well, this.”

May nodded again, brows hunched together as if she were trying to read his face. 

“Say what you need to say, Tony.”

“It’s bad.”

“I figured.”

Tony paused. 

“We can’t take him to the compound.”

May raised an eyebrow, and came as close to saying no shit, Sherlock as was possible without actually saying it. 

Back before everything happened, when Peter had gotten badly hurt, he would stay a few days at the compound in order to have a medical team experienced in that field watching over him while he recovered. 

But that had been five years ago. 

With the compound no longer around (smashed to little more than rubble), Tony felt even more responsible for Peter’s safety than he had before, if that were possible. 

An idea flickered in his mind. 

“How would you feel,” he started, watching May’s face for her reaction, “about him staying at my place for a bit?”

May’s eyes softened.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Where else is he going to go? Hospital can’t take him for obvious reasons, so unless you want me to send someone to your apartment to check on him every hour, I really don’t see a better option.” 

“We don’t even know what the problem is,” May pointed out, but Tony was already halfway to the front door.

“I’ll send someone to come get him by 4:00, and have my specialists check him out when he gets there.

“It’ll be like vacation - except he’ll be too delirious to remeber it.”

“Are you sure Pepper won’t mind?”

“She already knows.” Tony lifted his phone to show May the screen from which he had just sent a text. “I’ll be back in time to meet him there.”

May sighed, but they both knew she wasn’t mad. 

Tony shut the door behind him, leaving May feeling as though she had been talking to a tornado. 

She glanced at her watch. It had been all of ten minutes, and she had been convinced to let a billionaire host her nephew in his house while he recovered from a stab wound. 

May half-chuckled to herself and retreated back to Peter’s room, letting herself in with a soft knock. 

“Hey, Peter.”

Peter shifted under his blankets in acknowledgement and let one of his eyes fall open.

“Someone’s going to be here to pick you up pretty soon, so you’re going to need stay awake enough to walk out the door if you think you can.”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion.

“What?”

“Tony’s sending someone. You’re going to stay at his house for a couple of days while his fancy scientist make sure there’s no poison in your stab wound.”

“Oh.” He burrowed back under his blankets and shut his eyes. 

May frowned and reached out to feel his forehead with the back of her hand. 

Usually, Peter would be absolutely extatic that he was going to Tony’s house. He had only been a few times since he had blipped back, but she could easily recall how his face shone with excitement when he discussed his visits with her. 

After his first visit, he had described every bit of tech in the house with extreme detail, waving his arms around to emphasize certain points. He also gushed over Morgan (‘she’s so cute, May, you’ve gotta meet her’) and ranted about Tony’s alpaca for nearly twenty minutes. 

May smiled at the memory, before being pulled out of her thoughts by a knock on the door.

Tony, as expected, was standing directly behind the door, and the second that it opened he tried to pretend he hadn’t been nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

May smiled as much as was possible given her situation, and continued to do so as Tony and a few employees carried Peter out to a helicopter. It wasn’t until every one of them had left and the door was shut that the emptiness of the quiet apartment fully hit her, and she curled up under a mountain of blankets to try and block it out.

Meanwhile, in the helicopter, Tony was bouncing his leg up and down, channeling all of his nervous energy into one motion. 

Pepper, without looking up from whatever buisiness email she was typing on her phone, reached out and set a hand gently on his thigh. The bouncing slowed, if only by a bit. 

The landing was smooth as could be expected with the pilot attempting to avoid the alpaca in the middle of they yard, and before long, Peter was semi-conscious and sitting up against a mountain of pillows in one of Tony’s guest rooms. 

His med techs had already identified the poison used (rare, but not life-threatening, thank god), and Peter had a tube in one of his arms to distribute the antidote. 

Tony walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, running one hand through Peter’s curls. Normally, he would protest, but in his half-drugged state, he simply closed his eyes and let his face relax, releasing the tension that had rested between his brows. Tony felt a soft smile spread over his face. 

“Daddy?” Morgan was standing in the doorway, holding a large book of fairytales in both her arms.

“What is it, munchkin?” Tony looked up, but continued to run his hand through Peter’s hair.

“Read with me?” 

Morgan smiled the smile that she knew would get her anything she wanted, and Tony felt his heart melt, just like it had when he first held her. 

He frowned. “Maybe in a bit, sweetheart. I’m going to look after Peter for a little while.”

Morgan’s mouth settled into a pout.

“S’okay, Mr. Stark, you can go.” Tony was supposed to find Peter was still awake at all, let alone awake enough to listen to their conversation.

“Alright, kid. Shout if you need anything. Don’t die while I’m gone.”

Morgan grinned again and ran to pull her father by the hand, but her bright eyes didn’t miss the way Tony glanced back at Peter before leaving the room. 

Later, after Tony had finished reading to Morgan and everyone had eaten dinner (Peter ate his in bed, and only a little, but it was still an improvement), Tony sat on the edge of the guest room’s large bed again. This time, Morgan was curled up next to Peter, and Tony was telling them both a story, although they were nearly asleep. Pepper smiled at them from the doorway, and if she took a picture, no one ever knew. 

As Tony tucked Morgan into bed that night (“don’t tell mommy I gave you a juicepop before bed, she’ll kill me”), he felt almost at peace. Everyone he cared about most was safe under the same roof, and Peter was making a great recovery. When he fell asleep that night, it was with memories of the fairytales he had read to Morgan, instead of his usual visions of dust and blood mixing beneath his feet far from earth. 

The next morning was relatively uneventful. Pepper and Morgan had cereal in the dining room (Tony has opted to eat with Peter, much to Morgan’s disappointment), and after breakfast Tony headed to his lab. Peter had wanted to work, too, of course, but Tony had decided to make him stay in bed a few more days.

Morgan, who was sitting on top of her dad’s desk with comically large work glasses balanced on her nose, was complaining that she wasn’t allowed the same freedom as Peter in the workshop, despite being younger by 10+ years. 

“Pleeaasee?” She stuck out her bottom lip and pretended to cry. 

“Ease up on the puppy eyes, Morguna. No playing with dangerous electricity until you’re at least ten.” Tony barely looked up from his work, but a smile crept up his face. 

“You let Peter work in the lab!” 

Back with the puppy eyes. 

Tiny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“That’s because Peter’s much older than you, and I trust him not to blow up anything important.”

Morgan pouted again, but dropped the issue, opting to go play outside instead of sitting in the lab. 

Tony smiled as he watched her go, before remembering that it had been a while since he checked on Peter. 

Now able to sit up in bed, Peter was nearly back to his old self, with a few added coughs and a scar in his side.

“Hey, kid.”

Peter looked up from his phone and smiled. “Hey, Mr. Stark! Can I work in the lab now?”

Tony chuckled and ruffled Peter’s hair. 

“Not yet. Soon.”

Like magic, Morgan appeared at the door.

“Why does he get to work in the lab?”

“Morgan, we’ve been over this.”

Morgan huffed. “Okay. Can you come play with me now?”

“Not now, squirt. Peter needs some company.”

“Please?”

Peter smiled gently. “Mr. Stark, you can go.”

Tony looked between the two children. 

“I’m going to stay in here a bit longer, Morgan. Then I’ll come play.” 

Morgan stomped her foot. 

“No! You’ve been in here all day!”

Tony looked her in the eyes, and Peter did his best to look anywhere except for the direction of the fight that was obviously brewing. 

“Morgan, I said no.” 

Morgan did her best to cross her arms and glared at Tony with a burning glare. “You’re supposed to play with me, not him!”

Tony did his best to keep a steady voice and steer her away from her inevitable next words. 

“Morgan, do you need a nap?”

Wrong choice.

“NO! You need to stop being with Peter! He’s not even your real son and you’re supposed to be with me!”

Tony did his best to avoid looking at the heartbreak that had probably settled on Peter’s face. 

“Morgan, go to your room. Now.”

With one last fiery glance at Peter, Morgan stomped out of the room and down the hall. 

With a deep breath, Tony turned to look at Peter and assess the damage. 

Peter was very blatantly avoiding eye contact, staring down at his phone as if it held the meaning of life. 

“Peter.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark, I know she didn’t mean it.” Peter’s voice sounded like he was doing his best to keep it from shaking. 

“It’s not okay. She shouldn’t have said that.” Still no eye contact. “Peter, look at me.” 

“It’s really okay. She’s right; you should be spending more time with her.” Peter’s eyes were a bit shiny as they met Tony’s, but there was no indication that he was actually about to cry. Then again, he was very good at holding back tears.

“I’m going to go talk to her.” Tony stood up and started to leave the room, expecting at least a noise if dismissal, but none came. Peter was staring at his phone again, pretending like he hadn’t been there for the last five minutes. 

Tony felt his heart dropping into his toes as he walked down the hall to Morgan’s room. He could already hear crying coming from behind the door, and he was torn between running to comfort her and actually taking the initiative to discipline her like he knew he should. With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped in. 

Morgan was curled up in one corner of her bed, violently sobbing, with her head cradled in her arms. 

“I’m sorry!” She wailed as soon as she heard the door open. 

Tony sighed at sat down on the end of the bed. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Morgan.”

Morgan started crying harder. 

Tony set a hand on her arm. 

“Listen. Peter is a guest in our house, and you treated him very badly.”

Morgan nodded solemnly. “Like shit.”

God, parenting was tough. The sobs had subsided, though, so that had to be a plus.

“Don’t use that word.”

Morgan nodded again, but didn’t look her dad in the eye. 

Tony tried to remember any disciplining techniques he had ever learned. 

“Morgan, what do you need to say to Peter?”

“I need to ‘pologize.” Morgan sniffled.

“Yes, you definitely do. And I think you should do it as soon as possible.” 

Tony watched Morgan shuffle out the door, her breaths still occasionally punctuated by a sniff or half-sob. 

He wondered if he should go in and monitor the exchange, before deciding against it. 

As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry. When he walked back into the guest room at the end of the hall a few minutes later, Morgan was curled up in Peter’s arms being read to from her storybook. 

Tony smiled, but didn’t invade the scene. 

Just for now, he would let them be. 

Just for now, everything seemed like it would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
